Wuff with the Smooth: Creak-creak

I am constantly amazed by other dogs’ silences.
Last week I met a big collie called Rosco who kept pawing at my arm so that I would give him a scratch. He was, by breed, a Rough Collie although persons of a certain vintage would describe him as a ‘Lassie Dog.’

Anyway, amidst those pawings for attention he never made a sound, which initially I found a little odd. Was there something wrong with him? Then I remembered this silence wasn’t odd at all; Waffle is the anomaly. I also remembered previous pawings for attention from the Waff which were always accompanied by high-pitched whines and whistles. Now there’s a dog with something wrong with him. He is, by breed, a Cockachon although persons of a certain vintage (ie me) would describe him as a right pain in the hoop.

I also found it strange that I found Rosco’s silence strange. Is this what I have become, a man sullied by another dog’s anxiety.

Rosco’s owners, a charming couple from Strabane, further noted that Rosco was called Rosco because he’d been procured in Roscommon.

“Haha!” ses I (for I am easily amused), “if our dog was called after the county from which he was purchased, he’d be called, ‘Leitrim.’” Although I suspect I was the only one who found this joke in any way humorous. Maybe I’m touching delirium in my old, Waffle-addled age.

While Rosco was cool and calm – and most importantly, silent – Waffle is that rusty gate blowing in the wind in the middle of the night, creak-creak, creak-creak.

And he never shuts up. Never.

Generally speaking, I would consider myself a fairly patient person. I’ve sat through horrendous wedding speeches without sprinting for the bar. I’ve stood quietly behind old ladies at ATM machines as they check 18 different accounts with different cards, rifling through their handbags from time to time looking for the 19th card.

I even consented to accompanying Herself to the ballet one night in Letterkenny, despite not having much of an interest in ballet – or in Letterkenny, for that matter. I didn’t even bring a hip flash nor nahin.

However…

I have veritably roared myself hoarse at Waffle these past few years. Despite my best intentions, I cannot bear the incessant whining. It’s like nails down a blackboard mixed with chewing tinfoil mixed with Ed Sheerin’s ‘Galway Girl’.

I know I’ve mentioned this in the past but come on, it’s a big deal!

Also, now that I’ve witnessed the glorious silence experienced by other dog owners, I’m feeling a little jealous. Sweet, sweet silence, green, green jealousy.

I have since found myself looking at other dogs – on the street, in the park, heads poking out of car windows – and I’m wondering what it would be like to have a quiet dog. I know, of course, that no dog is absolutely silent; it’s practically a law that your dog should bark at the postman. And yet, I can’t help but wonder if Waffle is actually hastening my demise through his constant, ever-present, perpetual whinging. I’m not exaggerating: I regularly roar at him to shut his trap / wise up. I have long since discovered that if I don’t become annoyed, then he just ignores me.

Anyway, I’d write more but he’s whining at the door again. Probably wants to whine in a different room. Or at a different wall. Or maybe at me. Always at me.

Send help.

Or earplugs.

Or Rosco.